Bugs and Legal Briefs
by CMW2
Summary: IMPORTED STRAIGHT FROM LiveLoveWRITE- CMW2/Trumpetnista: This weekly Inappropriate Wednesday fic is an Olitz AU with Fitz the Forensic Entomologist and Olivia the Prosecutor getting it done, getting it in, and possibly getting got while living in the big city;Shoutout to lovepollution for the gif work that inspired me;Rated for language and spice mainly; 3rd in my 2014 SSS Project
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I don't want to talk about the fucking Finale. I don't want to think about it. I just **_**don't.**_** However, as I said before, one good thing about so much fuckery is that the Muses come alive, even in the wake of emotional devastation. This WIP is imported straight from Tumblr and inspired by a gif mashup by lovepollution. It'll be updated every Wednesday (barring unforeseen occurrences) and here are the first 6 chapters. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

"Olivia…"

"Look, what happened between us over the weekend…it was amazing and intense and just really…we can't do it again. We just can't. We have to work together and there are just so many opportunities for conflicts of interests between us, it's not even funny. I'm a prosecutor, you're a forensic entomologist and even a defense attorney who got their license out of a Cracker Jack box would use that to undermine every case we interacted on. And it's not like we could deny the fact that we've…"

"…made love."

"…because of the way that you look at me and there were witnesses. I kissed you in front of a whole smoking lounge full of people and that taxi driver, not to mention the doorman and the security cameras at my place and…Fitzgerald, we just…I just…"

"I get it."

"Oh. Well, good. That's…good. So, we understand each other?"

"Completely."

"Okay, then. Good night, Dr. Grant."

Since the door was behind him, she had to pass him to leave. As soon as her arm was in his reach, he grabbed it, pulled her flush against him and kissed her deeply. She shuddered and then responded hungrily, his glasses going askew. Large, possessive hands went over her bottom and she pulled away with a gasp.

"_**Fitz**_…"

"Shut up, Livvie."

And then he kissed her again, backing her towards his desk…


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

"_Tell me to stop…tell me that you don't want this and I'll stop_…"

Mind seared and body rocked, she met his fevered cobalt gaze. Kissing him in that lounge had been an impulse. She hadn't been drunk. She hadn't been dared. It hadn't been a full moon or anything like that. She had just…ever since he had arrived into her jurisdiction from Santa Barbara, Olivia had felt a pull towards him. Every woman with a pulse felt it…

The life story of Fitz Grant III so far was one worthy of the movies. The only child of prominent political parents, he had been expected to go into politics as soon as possible, expected to marry a Millicent 'Mellie' Vaughn but from the age of 10 on, he had rebelled. He had thrown himself into his studies of forensics and the related sciences, eventually obtaining a scholarship to Michigan State University at the age of 17. Instead of being proud, Senator Fitzgerald 'Big Jerry' Grant Jr. had been livid and promptly attempted to disown him.

Thanks to the legal red tape set up by Fitzgerald Grant I, indicating that disowning could only happen in the wake of being charged and convicted of a federal offense (a clause that the good Senator had barely escaped from in the wake of a prostitution/drug scandal in the late 80s), Fitz was still the sole heir of the Grant fortune, leading to the Senator trying another method of undermining, a method that ultimately backfired.

Through machinations from the Senator and her maternal family's influence in Michigan, Ms. Vaughn had actually been able to follow him to MSU, intent on seducing and marrying him before he could graduate from his forensic entomology program. That intent had led to a series of restraining orders, smear campaigns against him in response, and eventually the whole ugly truth coming out in a Pulitzer smash written by fellow student and friend, James Novak. The article series titled ' Backroom Blueblood Betrothals' had led to devastation within not only Big Jerry's professional life but many others as children of all genders came out of the woodwork to tell their stories.

Seeing where the wind was blowing, Mellie Vaughn promptly had turned on both of her benefactors and eventually landed on her feet with now current California governor, Andrew Nichols. Depending on who you asked, Fitz was a liberator or he was a traitorous renegade brat that should've been drowned at birth.

Anyway, his arrival to the Federal facilities in Manhattan 10 months previously had sent ripple effects through the female (and in a few cases, male) population. He was articulate. He was competent. He was humble. He was warm and funny in a goofy way…and he was very single. Olivia had overheard many a woman's story of how she had been gently but firmly shot down. Jeanine Locke had practically been in still besotted tears and Amanda Tanner…thankfully, she had been stopped and sent to a mental institution near Niagara before she could put her plan into motion. He was asexual or in the closet, according to general consensus but Olivia knew better. Fitz was simply waiting for the right person.

After years of being pushed towards imminent disaster and having his right to say 'no' under attack, he was relishing his freedom. Any other 36 year old, especially one as damned sexy as he was, would be using that freedom to sow his oats, to expand his little black book into a yellow pages volume but Fitz…he was…there was a purity of thought, an idealism to him that she found compelling.

In the end, he had been the one to reach out to her first on a non professional level. 8 months before, there had been a high profile case against the Deputy Mayor's nephew, Jesse Tyler for the murder of his fiancee in the Hamptons, a fiancee who had not only been cheating on him but cheating on him as an escort. It had been a wild case of sex, drugs, rock and roll, and brutal murder. The prosecution's case eventually came down to the entomological evidence. The rate of decomposition of Lindsay Dwyer's body had shown that she had been killed, not by a client but by the nephew.

The defense, led by high profile ambulance chaser, Jake Ballard (a constant pain in her ass, both professionally and personally…) had tried to do everything they could to discredit him, even bringing in an expert of their own, a Dr. Samuel Reston but Fitz had proved that not only were the man's interpretations incorrect, they were corrupt. While viewing the test footage with the prosecution team, Fitz had spotted evidence of tampering, the temperatures and the test pig parts being manipulated to show what the defense wanted to show. That day in court had been something straight out of _**Law and Order**_ and had led to not only the rightful conviction of Tyler but an invitation to dinner extended to her by Fitz, shocking but delighting her.

A friendship had blossomed between the two of them, deep and potent. It was like she had known him all her life and vice versa. They could end up talking for hours about everything from legal jargon to recipes. They worked out together, running in Central Park and rock climbing on Saturdays. She was the only person who was allowed to call him Fitzgerald outside of introducing him and Livvie…the last person that could call her that without her bristling was her mother. He had become very special to her and…kissing him, taking him home with her, and making love to him had been the next logical, most natural step to take with him…

_"Fitzgerald, I…I want you…I want to be with you but we just…our work…"__,_she started.

He shook his head and his left hand cupped the space where her neck and jaw met, sending her pulse (and hormones) into a deeper frenzy. Jesus fuck, this man was going to be the end of her! She just knew it…

"Don't bullshit me. Yes, there's a potential for conflict of interests but you know full and damned well that we're both professional enough to keep our personal lives out of the office and actually, the fraternization rules only apply to people within the same field with one of them being a higher rank. The last time I checked, I wasn't a lawyer and you cringe at the very thought of maggots…"

"…because they're absolutely fucking disgusting! They remind me of…"

"…expired cottage cheese and toe jam. I know that. I know _**you**_, Olivia and you are scared. You know that there's a connection between us, there has been from the start, and it's out of your control. It's out of mine, too."

"You…you really looked up the frat rules?"

"The moment I saw you. Olivia, I want to be with you. Not just on this desk…"

She chuckled and he rested his brow on hers, brushing soft kisses over her lips.

"…but in an actual relationship. I think we could work or at least fail amicably."

"…_you're my best friend…I don't want to lose you_…" she protested weakly, even as she removed his blazer.

Every ex she had in her 15 out of 32 years of dating ended up hating her guts. She was truly terrible at relationships and had always bounced back from breakups with little lasting damage. Failing with Fitz, failing with her best friend…it would ruin her…

"_Who says that you'd lose me, Livvie? Who put that law on the books?_"

"_Fitz_…"

"_Tell me to stop, Livvie…tell me to stop and I will_…"

Closing her eyes with a shuddering sigh, she opened them slowly and swallowed as she came to a decision.

Holding his gaze, she hiked up her steel gray skirt and licked her lips.

In response, Fitz's hands went to the edges of her crisp white blouse and tugged sharply. Olivia shivered and her hands went eagerly to his belt, cool air hitting her humid heat as her white bikinis were untied.

The sound that escaped her as he surged into her waiting, welcoming body vaguely reminded her of a tigress.

"_God, Livvie_, _**yes**__._.."

"_**Mmmm**_…"


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

"Got a minute?"

"For you, I've got almost 5. Come in, Liv."

Smiling slightly, Olivia entered DA Cyrus Beene's office and sat near primly in one of the chairs in front of his desk. Part of it was from nerves but the other was from sheer necessity. She was happy, she was sleepy, and she was deliciously sore.

Fitz had…god, how she had thought that one time (okay, counting the weekend, 8) would be enough was beyond her. After thoroughly taking her on his desk (and on the floor behind his desk), he had declared that she was packing an overnight bag and coming home with him. He wanted to feel her, to taste her, and to hold her in his bed, along with wherever else they ended up in his townhouse.

Thankfully, she kept a fully stocked overnight bag in her office to begin with so they had saved time, time that led to a night very well spent.

That morning she had woken up on the kitchen floor with him. His blazer and her sweater had served as a thin protection against the cool ceramic tile and he had been resting heavily on top of her, warming her front. Her legs were wide open and her ankles locked, holding his lower half possessively against hers. Her arms were still wrapped around his shoulders and when she shifted into a somewhat reclined position, she had been greeted by the sight of acres of leanly muscled, creamy skin, dusted by freckles. Idly, she had traced those freckles and the goosebumps from the cool air and presumably her touch…

"What's on your mind, Liv?"

"This is a professional and personal courtesy. I'm not asking for permission to do anything. The fraternization policy…" she began firmly.

"Mother of God…**_please_** tell me that you didn't cave and sleep with Ballard. I know that you're a grown woman and you can do whatever and whoever you please but…please tell me that it's not him that left that hickey on your neck."

"Oh, God, no! Cyrus, **_ew!_** I wouldn't let Jake Ballard touch me if we were the last two people on Earth!"

And that was the gospel truth. Ever since they had been the 'low men on the totem pole' at Isles, Morton, and Bernstein, he had been after her. Olivia was no stranger to the admiration of men (and the occasional woman) over the years post puberty. She had enough self confidence and awareness to realize that she was honestly quite pretty, beautiful when she really went all out, so it was…Ballard was different. He was persistent in his pursuit of her, almost obsessive and with each rejection, he got…he had never touched her inappropriately but the intent was there. He wanted her. In his eyes, she was being frigid and playing hard to get. In his eyes, she just needed to stop being so scared of 'being with a real man' and 'give him a chance'…wait, a hickey?

"I can't see it but it doesn't take a rocket surgeon to figure it out. The high's going to be in the mid-70s and you're wearing a scarf, an opaque scarf like a choker. That's not your usual style. Plus, the way you're walking and sitting suggests that you either spent the night helping the boys in blue do horse patrols in Times Square or you were on a stallion of a different kind."

"You know, if you ever get sick of slumming it with us lowly prosecutors, I'm sure there would be a place for you down at Quantico with the profilers."

"Feds give me the runs. Well, since you're bringing up the frat rules, I take it that you and this thankfully non-Ballard stallion are serious?"

"Potentially."

"Good for you. Who's the lucky man?"

"It's Dr. Grant."

"The Bug Man from the Tyler case?"

"That would be the one."

"Wow. I thought he was gay."

"No, Cy…you were _**hoping**_ he was gay."

"Well, yeah! Have you seen him? Shit…"

Olivia giggled and conceded his point with a shrug.

"I have seen and felt him and trust me, he is _**quite**_ straight. And quite mine. It's a recent 'mine' but you get the idea. I just wanted to give you a heads up to kick up to whomever it may concern i.e. IAB and the rest of the Big Giant Heads who haven't gotten any action since the War of 1812…"

"More like the Civil War. Thanks, Liv. As long as it doesn't torpedo a case and he makes you happy, then you'll get no static from me."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

"Take the death penalty off of the table and he'll give up the locations of two other victims."

"One would think that after what happened last time, your bosses would know better than to put you on major cases."

"What happened with Dr. Reston was on them, not me."

"The only reason that he tampered with the evidence in the first place, other than an utter and complete lack of scruples, was because in his words, the defense's work was shoddy and disorganized. You were the lead on the Tyler case and you made my job much, much easier. If I were your bosses, I would've thrown you out with the dirty dishwater or made sure that you didn't see anything more difficult than malicious mischief and marijuana possession. The Needle is still in play and will be unless someone above me approves to drop it, which considering what your client has done…"

"Allegedly done."

"…is doubtful."

Halbert 'Hal' Rimbeau was a meat truck driver turned rapist and killer. His MO was to scope out the clubs in Times Square, looking for doe eyed tourists or sheltered Daddy's Girls. Once he had found his victim (usually a willowy brunette with blue eyes), he would lay down his clumsily awkward charm and while they were writing him off as someone sweet and harmless, he would dose them heavily. He would then take them to the warehouse his family owned on the other side of the river and have his way with the women for a 3 day period before snapping their necks in a 'mercy killing'. Jacqueline Collins, Stephanie Kendricks, and Miranda St. James had been his confirmed victims. Only one, Miranda had survived and made her escape while Rimbeau had gone out to get provisions. Belongings had been kept as trophies for the first two victims and their DNA, along with Jacqueline's had been found all over the various discarded condoms and instruments that had been in a large bin.

"Don't you want justice for them? Melina Miller and Nadine Jones have been missing for 3 years and Rimbeau has admitted to killing them. He says that they were his trial runs."

"Ballard, you're skipping a lot of steps. If your client has confessed to being involved in those cold cases, then you need to turn him over to the cops, let them do their jobs, and _**then**_ come to me in a Hail Mary. How do you even know that he's not lying? Some criminals claim responsibility for crimes they didn't commit for attention or to build up jailhouse capital."

"Nobody likes a rapist, especially criminals. The only people lower on the totem pole behind bars are child molesters. Olivia, I'm just trying to do my job and this sweetens the pot for you. There's going to be a DA opening at the top of the year. Osbourne's retiring and this case could put a feather in your cap."

"I have no interest of climbing the political ladder. I'm needed here as a prosecutor and I want to stay where I am. I can do the most good here. And you can do the most good far away from my office and from me. See you in court, bright and early on Monday."

"You're leaving?"

"It's 5:45 on a Friday night and unlike you, I'm ready for Monday. Yes, I'm leaving. I have dinner plans at 7."

"With Dr. Grant."

"Yes."

"I came in looking for him a few days ago. Bernstein said that we needed for his expertise and…I heard you. You were fucking him on his desk."

"No, I wasn't."

"Olivia, I _**heard**_ you!"

"What you heard was him fucking me on the desk. I fucked him behind the desk afterwards. _**Do not**_ yell at me."

"_How could you_…"

"How could I what? The fraternization policy doesn't apply here and I would never allow whatever personal familiarity I have with Dr. Grant to compromise a case nor would he when it comes to me. He's single. I'm single and…why am I even bothering justifying myself to you? We are not friends and we've never been intimate and we never will be. Ballard, you've got until the morning to take Rimbeau to the cops or I'll do it. I'll also move to get you disbarred for obstruction of justice…and sexual harassment."

"You can't do that!"

"In the immortal words of Queen Bey: I'm a grown woman and I can do whatever I want. Get out of my office and I'll see you in court on Monday afternoon, Ballard. Please let the door hit you on the way out."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

"_It's just Fitz. It's just Fitz. It's just Fitz…_" she whispered repeatedly, trying and failing to calm herself down.

"…that you**_ finally_** had nasty, naughty marathon, semi-public sex with like I knew you would as soon as you met him."

"Aren't you overdue to go sit on David's face, Abigail?"

"I already did that today. Twice. Liv, all you have to do is show up and he'll be happy."

"I know but…I want to look nice for him."

"But, I thought that it was just Fitz…" Abby wheedled.

With a low growl of annoyance, Olivia turned away from her snickering best friend and opened her underwear drawer. What to wear? What color? What pattern? What cut? He liked the side tie bikinis…would he be expecting to see that style again? Should she go for bold and funky or classy chic? Should she grab a pair of neutral colored cotton boyshorts (her equivalent of granny panties) and call it a night? Should she even bother with panties in the first place? It wasn't like she and Fitz were strangers, after all…

"Damn it. He's gonna be here in less than an hour and I can't even pick out some underwear, not to mention an outfit. Since when do I act like this with men? I _**never**_ act like this with men…"

Her relationships with men had a tendency to fall into a pattern. They met, they connected, and the sex started out good but would falter. The arguments would begin, usually started by the guy she was with over her hours or her admitted emotional detachment. She'd withdraw from him, not wanting to fight and the rift would between her and whoever the man was would widen and widen until he finally gave up on her via a Dear John letter, a break up argument or through her most recent ex, Assistant ADA Edison Davis out of Newark, New Jersey, they would blatantly cheat on her and then blame her for their actions. Whatever came first.

While she had experienced attraction and lust before, what she was feeling for Fitz was different. There was tenderness there, along with a girlish bout of nervous butterflies in her Gut. She was excited to see him, so excited that she couldn't really think straight, hence her current predicament.

Thank God for her best friend, crazy tactlessness and all, because Olivia knew that if she were by herself right now, she'd be so flustered and annoyed with herself, she wouldn't be going anywhere tonight.

"That's because you needed to upgrade, Liv-Liv. Park it and let your crazy Auntie Abby Handle your Scandal. Where are you two going and do you plan on getting between the sheets and against the wall with him later?"

"We're going to get Indian food and of course I do. Have you seen him?" she replied while putting some more lotion on her freshly shaved legs.

"I have. Okay, here's what you're going to wear. Put it on while I find your best 'come hither and fuck me' shoes."

Olivia accepted the clothing and dropped her pale yellow robe, revealing her still damp naked body. The underwear set was white sheer with embroidered lace flowers in strategic places. The balconette cut of the bra showcased her cleavage without looking artificial and the panties emphasized the flare of her hips just right. The dress Abby had found was a soft peach color, cotton with her preferred scoop neck and had a flouncy hem that stopped just past her knees. Crossing to her vanity, Olivia picked up her favorite cherry red matte lipstick and put it on, along with a bit of black mascara on her upper lashes.

"Put your hair up. He always sees it down."

"Not always. I tie it up when we work out together."

"Semantics. Do you still have that pretty gold hair thing that looks like a big butterfly?"

"It's in my mother's jewelry box." she replied with a nod to her right nightstand.

The shoes were her usual 4 inch height and a deeper shade of peach with small white polka dots. Olivia held still as Abby piled her hair up and put the butterfly broach in, giving her a messy, flirty updo. Standing in front of her full length mirror, she sighed deeply and gave an approving nod.

"Thanks, Abs."

"You're gonna blow him away…in more ways than one." Abby replied with a waggle of her brows.

"Shut up!" she laughed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

"Fitzgerald, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Don't bullshit me. You were fine earlier. Now, you're not. You're brooding. You're angry but I don't think it's at me. I hope it's not at me, anyway…"

"It's not at you. Not specifically….not for anything recent…not for anything that I even really have the right to be angry about…"

"Okay, that's not even a little bit reassuring. What did I do?"

Trying to hold onto the last remnants of his control and to stall, Fitz poured himself another glass of wine. The date had been wonderful, really it had. They had gotten briyani and naan before going on a walk through Central Park. They had shared a decadent chocolate turtle sundae and the image of her lips wrapped around that spoon, the feel of her nibbling at his fingertips sent heat tunneling through his veins, the need for her sharpened by…

"I had a visitor at my office earlier. He wanted to talk about you."

"Who would come to your office to… oh. Oh,_**no**_. Tell me that he didn't…oh my god, that fucking bastard! Fitz, what exactly did Jake Ballard say to you? What did he imply?"

Nothing that he wanted to repeat and nothing that he wanted to think about. Although he was 89 to 92% sure that the ambulance chasing nematode was lying, having an indignant Jake Ballard in his office, demanding to know just 'what the hell he was playing at' was jarring. Confused and annoyed at the intrusion, at the delay at getting to his Livvie, he had asked Ballard for clarification. The man had puffed up his chest a little and there had been whiskey on his breath as he got right in his face, a perverse smile playing at his fish like lips…

"He said that there had always been something between you two. He said that you two had spent the night together when you were junior lawyers and that…he said that you were the sweetest, softest, tightest woman that he had ever been with and I had no to right to…Olivia, I know that you had a life here long before I came along and that you have the god given, primal right to be with whoever you want to be with but…I'm jealous as hell. It doesn't make an ounce of sense. It makes me sound like a Neanderthal but knowing that someone else has been inside you, someone else has **_pleasured _**you…I want to kill him."

"Me too, because he's a dirty little liar."

"_What?_"

"We spent the night together, all right. Doing mile high stacks of paperwork with the senior partners. It was a punishment for him but after he was settled in another room, the partners asked me for input on the case they were working on: the Kagen murder."

"I remember that case. It was in '05 and a remote controlled sniper rifle attack outside the Federal courthouse. The target had been Verna Thornton but Britta Kagen…it was a hit put out by Billy Chambers, who wanted to take her judge seat."

"Yes, which was ridiculous since she was retiring because she was chock full of terminal stage bone cancer. All he had to do was wait another 2 weeks at most and he could've gotten the seat legitimately…anyway I helped draft the opening and closing arguments. It took all night and Ballard had been 3 doors down the whole time. I didn't even see him after we got off of the elevator. And as for sweet? It was a mistletoe kiss, a very reluctant one on my part. He came out of nowhere, held a sprig over our heads, shoved his tongue in my mouth and then threw up in the punch bowl of eggnog before it spilled all over him. David Rosen still has the pictures if you don't believe me. He doesn't know jack shit about how soft and tight I am and he never will. Fitzgerald, I swear on my mother's grave that Jake Ballard and I have never had sex. We've never even come close, not for lack of trying on his part."

"Why would he lie?" Fitz asked with a blend of genuine confusion and growing disgust.

Olivia came out from behind her kitchen counter and hugged him from behind. A soft growl rumbled in his chest at the feel of her breasts against his back and he shivered a little as her hands slid underneath his untucked plum purple Oxford. Her hands were small but potent, especially as her blunt nails dipped into the defined grooves and planes of his lower abdomen.

"He wants to break us up before things get serious between us. He knows that he can't compete with you so he was hoping to get in your head so you'd hang yourself on his noose. It's how he defends his clients."

"I feel very sorry for his clients."

"Don't. They're going where they belong…and I'm where I belong. With you. Fuck Jake Ballard."

Slowly, Fitz turned around and whatever she saw on his face made her shiver before swallowing slowly.

_I'll give her something to swallow…_

"Olivia…the only man you're going to be fucking is _**me.**_"


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Hey, folks. I haven't forgotten my other SCANDAL fics, honest. I'm just still in recovery from the new Finale-That-Must-Not-Be-Named and I've been busy relishing the brutal carnage that Ms. Rhimes is still enduring from the Media because of the fuckery. What's slaying me in all the right ways is that even those who don't really watch the show and even those who do watch and gives no types of fucks about Olitz and love Mellie/the Creeper are coming for her, simply because of blatantly bad and inconsistent writing. And no matter what she says to try and cover her ass, no one believes her or in her anymore and I love it, I really do. Karma's a bitch. Of course, I wish that these folks and critics had been awake and around during the latter part of Season 2 onwards but better late than never. New hope springs eternal for a better Season 4 or more likely, a cancellation. Either option would make me happy.**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

_"Oh my…don't stop…_**_more_**_, baby…"_

_"Tell me what you want, Livvie. Tell me exactly what you want and I'll give it to you…I'll _**_always_**_ give it to you…"_

_Panting, nearly hyperventilating, Olivia tried to rotate her hips backward, tried to take him inside her but was stopped by a scolding swat to her bottom. Instead making her shy away, a husky purr of delight made him shiver behind her and grab a fistful of her now very tangled hair. Olivia mewed as her head was tilted backwards and she accepted Fitz's kiss happily, trying once again to connect them…_

_"Unh-uh, Livvie. You have to use your words…." he wheedled, even as he ground teasingly against her sex, skimming up and down over her slit. "God, you're absolutely _**_soaked_**_…"_

_"…'s for you.._.**_just_**_ for you…_**_please_**_, Fitz…baby, I need you…I need you in me…please, please…"_

_Large hands spanned her middle and Olivia's eyes snapped wide open as he slowly, firmly, near lazily entered her. Whimpering, she purposely clenched her inner walls, making him snarl with pleasure. To accent that snarl, his tongue skimmed up her shoulder blade and she squealed softly as he bit down like a mating lion. _

_One of the things that kept her coming back for more from him was the sheer amount of layers he had as a lover. He could be tender. He could be playful. He could be rough and wild. He could be absolutely primal…Olivia firmly rolled her hips back and Fitz rose up on his knees, his hand returning to her hair. Each thrust into her was deliberate, hard and deep, and she trembled in their wake, inside and out. Good, so fucking _**_good_**_…fucking _**_a-ma-zing_**_…_

_"Yes, it is, sweetheart and do you know why?"_

_Eyes squeezed shut and teeth bared, Olivia nodded and cried out as his hand landed on her ass again harder as he pounded into her faster and faster. Oh, Jesus…he was going to kill her. He was going to kill her and she would die a very, very happy woman…_

"**_Tell me why!_****_"_**

**_"Because it's us!"_**

_As if rewarding her for her answer, Fitz's next thrust hit perfectly and she came apart with a piercing shriek, burying her face in the pillows. His hands slid down to her hips and she felt him give into his own need. Each pulse of his cock, each shot of his seed made her shiver and he let out a shuddering groan of bliss. The soft, slick sound of him rocking and grinding within her as he came down had her raising her head again. After a few minutes, Fitz withdrew from her and turned her onto her back._

_She knew that she looked a sight. Tangled hair, sweaty, covered and sticky with their combined fluids. Her lipstick was smeared all over her face, her mascara had ran, and there was going to be at least 2 bright red handprints on her ass, not to mention lover's bruises on her hips. She could feel the tenderness of her budded nipples and the heat of their sex between her twitching thighs. Olivia was…_

_"…_**_beautiful_**_…" he sighed dreamily before lowering his head, heading right for the fluids coating her inner thighs…_

* * *

"Got a third…and it's…you all need to see this!"

Olivia's eyes narrowed and she looked at the visibly shocked men next to her.

"You said that you were showing us to two bodies, Rimbeau. What's with the third?"

"I…I don't kn-know…this is _**my**_ spot! No one else should know about it! I called dibs!"

"To whom? Jesus, the Loch Ness Monster, or the Easter Bunny?"

"I…I..."

"Look, let's just go see the third body, okay? You'll get plenty of chances to rip him apart when we go to trial, Olivia." Ballard cut in with his usual passive aggressive snivel.

Shooting Ballard and his client (mostly Ballard) a look of pure loathing, Olivia carefully made her way to the ravine where the detectives were converging. It was an ugly overcast day and the misty breeze was beginning to take a turn for the Arctic already. Since it was only October, Olivia knew that they were going to be in for a brutal winter and she was not looking forward to it at all. She despised the cold, always had and with the falling temperatures, came a rise in crime and her workload.

People were touchier, more prone to cabin fever, and there would be all sorts of holiday drama to endure. Some people would drink. Some people would eat. Still others would fuck, holing up with their chosen one and not coming out until the temperature rose above a certain point but there was always someone who wanted to solve their problems in a bloodier way.

"Oh my God…I…"

"Really?" she asked incredulously as Rimbeau took one look down the ravine and promptly vomited. "You're gonna throw up, now, Rimbeau? _**This**_ disgusts you? What about what you did to…never mind. Harrison, what's the deal?"

CSI Level III Harrison Wright looked up at them grimly and called, "The body's only been here for about 2 weeks, Liv. There's a lot of insect activity on the remains but at first glance, it's a male vic with a GSW to the left temple and shattered knee caps. This isn't one of Rimbeau's but we do have another killer on the loose. I better call Grant in. We're gonna need his help. Stay up there, all right? You don't…it's pretty gnarly, Liv and coming from me, that's saying something."

"You don't have to tell me twice. I hate any bug that's not a butterfly or ladybug."

"Wimp!"

"Shut up!" she chuckled. "Do your job and give me someone to lock up, okay?"

With a flip of the bird and a mocking salute, Harrison returned to the fray and Olivia carefully passed the teams removing the skeletal remains of Rimbeau's hidden two victims.

"So, let me get it right: you hate bugs and yet, you're fucking the top forensic entomologist in the region. Kind of ironic, don't you think?" Ballard sniped after Rimbeau was turned back over to the officers from Riker's.

"I don't appreciate you talking to me like that, Ballard and I **_certainly_** don't appreciate you spreading false information about my personal life. You told Dr. Grant that you and I had been intimate when you know that's not only a lie but an impossibility. What is wrong with you? What is your problem?"

"I don't have a problem!"

"I don't have time for this…"

"Don't you walk away from me, damn it!"

Olivia nimbly dodged his grasping hand and he gasped as she slashed a large straight razor towards his face, making him step back warily. Keeping her eyes on him, she opened her car door and tossed her bag in.

"Don't come near me. Don't yell at me and don't you ever disrespect me like this again or I'll cut your fucking nose off, you got me?"

"Is there a problem here?" a cool voice inquired from the right.

A baby faced, faux hawked brunette cop was standing there and slowly, the lanky manchild in blue stepped between her and Ballard, hand already resting on his service weapon.

Jake plastered a false smile on his face and replied, "No, not all, Officer…"

"Ethan Rabinski. I'm out of the 1-9 and I think there _**is**_ a problem here and you're it. After all, women don't promise to cut people's noses off for no reason. Ma'am, are you all right?"

"Yes, Officer. I'm fine. I'd be better if you could escort Mr. Ballard here to his car and wherever he wants to go, unless it's to my apartment."

"I don't even know where you live, Olivia. You're overreacting!" Ballard scolded her like a wayward child.

"I beg to differ. I'm under reacting and I have been for too long. No more, though. Officer Rabinski, since I live within your precinct's jurisdiction, I'll be stopping in after work to file a formal complaint against Mr. Ballard, here. This is my card and on it is the number to DA Beene's office so that you can inform him of the situation."

"I'll do that ASAP. Move on your own or be cuffed, sir. The choice is yours."

Ballard's face was eerily calm as he climbed into the passenger's seat of Rabinski's cruiser but his eyes were seething with rage. Olivia met the gaze head on, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear and it was only after the cruiser pulled away that she let a repulsed shudder go through her form. All this time, she had dismissed Ballard as little more than a nuisance, an overly familiar and persistent pest but now?

Mentally, she made a note to stop at the hardware store for new locks and to increase her time at the boxing gym down the street from the courthouse and to tell Fitz about this as soon as possible…

How she was going to inform him and prevent him from killing Ballard was still a mystery to her.

She'd figure it out.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Hello, everyone. Warm weather brings good moods and cooperative Muses, apparently. ****_Draftbook Drabble #3_**** is over 4000 words already and I'm just now getting to the citrusy nitty-gritty between our heroes. You guys are gonna love it and at this rate, it should be up by either midnight or tomorrow afternoon. An update for ****_The Thunderbolt_**** is still brewing in my head and Baby Girl Pope-Grant in ****_Shattering_**** will be making her debut within the next couple of chapters. Enjoy this week's ****_Bugs _****installment and keep your inboxes open for more offerings from this Gladiator in a Hoodie.**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

His arms were tender around her and Olivia buried her face in his neck. Fitz rocked them slightly and she rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes loosely. She had gotten and installed the new locks, as well as thick new shades to go in the windows behind the blinds. She had also contacted her alarm company for an upgrade to her system. Ballard didn't know where she lived but that could change easily. She had involved the authorities now and she had heard that his bosses had called him in for a 'discussion'…

It was starting to become a perfect storm, if it already wasn't to begin with. Ballard would be looking to get even, one way or the other.

"I don't know how I'm going to Handle him."

"We'll figure it out, Livvie. Ballard won't get his hands on you."

"I'm more worried about you than me. What if he comes after you? What if he does something to destroy your professional credibility? What if he…"

His finger cut off her frantic stream of questions and looking at him with doe eyes, she let his fingertip slip between her lips.

"Olivia, I'm glad you're concerned about me but I can take care of myself. I've been doing so for years and Ballard isn't the first person to come after me. The only reason that I'm even acknowledging his existence is because of the danger to you. He's fixated on you, possessive of you even though you've never given him more than the time of day, and he's proven that he's not afraid to get physical with you. I'm glad that Rabinski was there and that you had your razor."

"I never leave home without it but it'll do me little good if he manages to rush me or disarm me. He's bigger than me and angry at me. I'm going to go to IAB about him after I talk to Cyrus. I need to…I need to know my options."

"I don't want you staying here alone."

"The cops at the 1-9 said the same thing and offered to put me into protective custody but I don't want to uproot my life. It'll be like letting him win. "

"I understand that. Well, what if I stay with you until he's off the streets?"

"Fitzgerald, I can't ask you to do that."

"You're not. I'm volunteering. You are my dearest friend and anything that I can do to help you through this time, I will."

"_...thank you, baby."_

_"**Anything **for you, Livvie…the whole world for you, Livvie…_"


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Good Wednesday Morning, folks. Thanks for all the love for all my SCANDAL-ous offerings and shoutout to everyone who's still fighting the good fight in the fandom for our heroes. You all are great and wanted and needed. Let's keep the party going. This one dives into the cesspool that is the Creeper's head so if you want to give it a pass, I understand. I think I wrote his character as it really is, though…**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

Some baseball game was on but he barely registered it. He was on an extended 'vacation', now. The Rimbeau case had gone to David Rosen, meaning that his main avenue of seeing her was cut off. Jake popped the top off of another beer from the case and downed half of it in one pull. Olivia Pope. Olivia Pope. Olivia Pope had gotten under his skin from the first time he saw her, heard that damned sexy raspy soprano of her voice. She was petite but curved in all the right places, her body made to take a man's like a glove to hand. She was articulate and unabashedly herself, unabashedly intelligent, unabashedly feminine, unabashedly tough…

The thought of her with another man, especially that damned pretty boy glorified butterfly catcher turned his stomach. He had been right in front of her for all this time, going on 5 years but she never warmed to him. She saw him as a distant acquaintance or maybe just a nuisance. He hadn't meant to become a nuisance to her. All he wanted to do was touch her. All he wanted to do was taste her. All he wanted to do was get to know her. Was that so wrong? What was so repellent about him that Olivia couldn't even give him a night, a simple kiss without mistletoe? What did Grant have that he didn't?

She was the best prosecutor in the city and came from a long line of lawyers, professors, government officials. She wasn't hurting for money. She didn't need to get on her knees and on all fours for Grant just to get by…

_**She does it because she**_** wants**_** to. She does Grant because she **_**wants**_** to. She's given Grant the friendship, the respect, and the sex you crave from her because she wants **_**him**_**. She doesn't want you, Jacob. Can you blame her for not wanting you? I knew that as soon as I gave birth to you that you were a bad egg, that you were broken inside just like your son of a bitch, no good sperm donor. And don't delude yourself into thinking that you actually love that Pope girl. You just want her to prove a point. You want to beat out the BOMC by taking the pretty girl that he likes and having your way with her. You've been shown time and time again that she can't stand you and yet you're still sniffing around her, looking for her scraps. You're pathetic. I should've left you on the side of the road after you were born…**_

It really was unfair. His mother had finally passed away just before he left for NYC, losing a brutal battle with alcoholism and lung cancer at the age of 56. The last years of her life had her bedridden and wheezing, forced into sobriety by her condition and the lack of booze had only sharpened her tongue. Nothing he did was good enough. Nothing he said was smart enough. He looked just like the man who had seduced and abandoned her after she fell pregnant and every bit of hatred, every bit of bitterness about the situation had been directed towards him.

She had been outraged when he informed her that he was going to put her in a hospice and her last rant had been her most brutal. She swore that he would never find anyone that would really want him, that anything he touched would turn to shit and that…well, he hadn't heard what her last proclamation against him was. See, his mother had needed another pillow and he had gladly, _**firmly**_supplied her with it. The cops hadn't even really tried. Everyone knew that Nora Ballard would drink herself to death, that her heart would drown in gin and bitterness…Jake had been praised for sticking by her through it. Such a good boy, such a good son, too bad that his mother couldn't see how precious he was…

Karma had a way of doing things. Not only did his mother's death not rid him of her vitriol, every bit of her Curse seemed to be coming true. He had struggled through law school and it had taken him two times to pass the Bar. He was seen as 'mediocre at best' by his contemporaries but the public defender's office kept him on. There were so many criminals out there, so many people who still had their constitutional rights and needed defending…the Tyler case had not been his fault. He had done his job.

"_…__you made my job much, _**_much_**_ easier…"_

_"…what you heard was _**_him_**_ fucking _**_me_**_ on the desk. I fucked him behind the desk afterwards…"_

_"… and __I __**certainly**__ don't appreciate you spreading false information about my personal life. You told Dr. Grant that you and I had been intimate when you know that's not only a lie but an __**impossibility**__…_"

"…_What is _**_wrong_**_ with you?"_

"…_Don't come near me. Don't yell at me and don't you _**_ever _**_disrespect me like this again or I'll cut your fucking nose off, you got me?_**"**

Why? Why her? Why did it have to be Olivia Pope? Why did she insist on being with Grant? Didn't she know better? Hadn't she heard all the salacious stories about his father, all the dirty urban legends? Did she really expect the apple to fall far from the tree? And what if it had? What if she and Grant got serious? What if they moved in together? What if they got engaged? What if she married him? What if she had his babies, his big fat smushy blue eyed babies? What if…what if…what if…

Another beer was opened and downed sullenly.

It just wasn't fair. Why? Why her?

Why did it have to be Olivia Pope? Why couldn't she just have wanted him and not anyone else, especially Dr. Fitz fucking Grant III?

Why?

**_Why?_**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: All right, seriously? I'm not watching her new show. I love Viola Davis but I'm not doing it. Despite my love of KW, I tried valiantly to avoid SCANDAL, failed miserably, and now look where I am right now, look where we are right now. Don't get me wrong. I'm happy to be a Gladiator in a Hoodie because I've met some amazing as fucking hell people in the fandom and expanded my writing skills but…yeah, no. I have relearned my lesson thoroughly when it comes to how Ms. Rhimes rolls with her shows and I'm a lot of things but I'm no masochist. Unless my boss ends up into it and turns a DVR recording on during my shift (which is how I originally fell down the SCANDAL-ous rabbit hole), I'm not…unh-uh. Y'all let me know how it is. Enjoy this week's _Bugs_ installment and a **_**Shattering **_**update is in the works!**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

"…_you missed our appointment yesterday, Olivia._"

"I'm prosecuting the Times Square Rapist. Although the prosecution's case is watertight, the high profile has the potential to be problematic. I was looking over my notes for this morning and I lost track of time. There are 3 other Sundays in this month alone. Pick one and I'll show up."

"_Alone or with Dr. Grant?_"

"You'll have to see for yourself. I'm glad to see that the Gossip Grapevine still flows like the East River's pollution…"

"_The fact that I have to hear about what's going on in your life through gossip is_…"

"…more than you deserve. We don't have the sort of relationship that would allow for me to come to you personally with these things and we both know whose fault that is."

"…_how long do you plan on staying angry with me, Olivia?_"

"How long do you plan on living, Dad?"

"_What happened to your mother was in no way my fault._"

"If you had kept it in your pants, then you two wouldn't have gotten divorced and she wouldn't have been on that plane to London. And need I remind you that you dropped me off on _**Grand-mere**_'s doorstep not a month later and didn't look back? I was 12 years old, my mother had just perished in a plane crash and instead of being there when I needed you, you ran away."

"_I sent checks to cover your schooling and living expenses…_"

"…and money and cards on my birthday and for the graduations you couldn't even bother to take 5 minutes out of your precious time to attend. The only reason that you're even reaching out to me now is because I've made a name for myself as a prosecutor and the fact that you were cut completely out of _**Grand-mere**_'s will."

"_I don't need any of her damned money._"

"That may be true but you _**were**_ expecting it and when it didn't come, when she called you out on your bullshit in front of everyone in the funeral parlor on that tape, it was a huge blow to your ego and reputation. For a brief shining moment, everyone saw that the legendary Eli Pope was nothing more than another deadbeat dad on the corner, talking big and saying nothing. "

".._.Next Sunday at Enrique's. 8PM sharp. Bring Dr. Grant._"

The victory she felt at the brittleness in her father's voice before the dial tone was pyrrhic. It was nice to know that she had gotten to him, that she had broken through the icy composure that had been a part of him for as long as she could remember but speaking to him brought up so much pain. Eli Pope had been a distant figurehead of a parent, leaving the warmth and nurturing to her mother Maya. Then, one day, after she and her mother came home from taking her to a mid school day tooth cleaning, they had walked in on him with his secretary on the living room floor. Olivia being 9 at the time really didn't understand what was going on but she soon found out.

Her first time in a courtroom had been during the custody battle. While her mother and father threw every legal tactic they knew at each other like missiles, Olivia had been amazed by the size of the room. It was just like in Law and Order but better. She could see every part of the room, hear the typing of the court reporter, smell the polish on all of the shining wood around her. Some of the lawyers and judges around were mean but the vast majority of them were nice to her, impressed by her good behavior and patiently answering every question that popped into her head.

By the time her mother won custody of her on her 11th birthday, Olivia had her heart set on being a lawyer, just like her momma, just like her daddy but better. She wanted to make a difference. She wanted to help those who truly needed it. She wanted to be the best prosecutor in the city, in the state, in the region, in the country, in the World. She wanted to be the DA. She wanted to be the AUSA. She wanted to be a Supreme Court Justice. That had become her dream.

After her mother passed away and Eli had abandoned her, she had thrown herself deep into her studies, becoming obsessive almost. While the other 14 year old girls were reading the latest gossip rags at the lunch tables, she was reading law textbooks and compiling stack after stack of notes on the information. She had started going to open to the public lectures on the weekends after she turned 16 and her first real job had been as a court reporter's assistant. She had gotten her credentials and taken the job at Isles, Morton, and Bernstein, where she stayed until 3 years before, when Cyrus had offered her the current job she had and loved.

In the end, she had done it. She had endured her pain and worked hard and now, here she was. She was Olivia Pope, 'the Pope Pistol', and she was an example of excellence in the field. She had integrity. She had strength. She had guts. She had…she had…she had…

A warm hand went to the small of her back and she turned around on her bar stool to look up into his eyes. Soft sobs shook her form as Fitz wiped her tears way and she took a handful of his t-shirt, using it to anchor herself back to the present. The past was done. It would always hurt but it was the past. Her mother had always told her to live in the moment, not to be too impulsive but to slow down, to relish the peace and joy that she had now, instead of worrying about what was to come later or what had come before….

Her peace and joy came in the form of the man in front of her.

She was so glad that he was in her life…


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Good morning, everyone. This one has Liv in the courtroom dealing with Rimbeau's surviving victim on the stand and it's pretty damned gnarly. I don't think it's anything too ghastly. I mean, if you can get through an episode of ****_Criminal Minds_**** or****_ SVU_****, you'll be okay but I've added trigger tags anyways so if you want to skip this week's _Bugs_ installment and come back for next week's, I completely understand. As I mentioned before, fic is supposed to be fun, not a tool to hurt people. Have a great Wednesday and thanks for still supporting this story! Mad Love, Jam, and Power Drills, ~*Trump*~/*~CMW2*~**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

**_"...I'm not going to stand here and tell you that the defendant is the picture of mental health and sanity. Obviously, he isn't. Anyone who can perpetuate and hide the heinous crimes that he did…there's something not right. However, as the evidence will show, the defendant does not fit the legal definition of insanity. The legal definition of insanity is a state of mental illness of such a severe nature that a person cannot distinguish fantasy from reality, cannot conduct her/his affairs due to psychosis, or is subject to uncontrollable impulsive behavior. Insanity is distinguished from low intelligence or mental deficiency due to age or injury. A legally insane person no longer has the capacity to understand that his or her actions are wrong nor do they have the capacity to meticulously plan their actions and then carry them out. The defendant spent months planning the attacks. He may not have had specific targets in mind in the beginning but he did have plans for whomever he captured. He built and bought equipment. He bought real estate. He paid the taxes and mortgage on that real estate. He wrote out every fantasy, every desire he had and was determined to fulfill them all and get away with it. Melina Miller, Nadine Jones, Jacqueline Collins, Stephanie Kendricks, and Miranda St. James were drugged, abducted, and repeatedly violated by Halbert Rimbeau, a Halbert Rimbeau who was in full possession of mental capacities at the time of his actions and needs to face the consequences of his actions. They all deserve justice and a measure of peace. It is my hope that you as a jury will see what has happened to these women, hear what happened to Miranda St. James, and help them all get their justice and their peace…"_**

* * *

"Miranda, how did you escape? What happened?"

"_He left the freezer drawer ajar. He said that it was a pull out bed but I knew better. My daddy…he owned a __delicatessen in New __Orleans before Katrina. He used to store whole hogs in the drawers at the bottom of the refrigerators. Kind of like a broiler area in an oven, you know? Anyway, after the first day, I…I shut down. I was hurting and bleeding and…I remember him saying that since I was such a good girl, a t-tight girl, he wouldn't chain me like the others. I k-knew my Place._**.." **

"So, you waited until after he left and slid open the drawer fully?"

"_Yes. It was pitch dark but I knew how the room looked like the back of my hand. I could hear the chains on the harness rattling in a breeze, a really cold breeze coming from the door. He left that ajar, too. A-at first, I thought that it w-was another test like the first day. I thought that h-he'd be waiting outside to catch me as I ran and he would hoist me up again, t-that he would use the p-paddle again before he…I…I…even though it was r-risky, I had t-to try, you know? My momma always said that we were survivors…so I took a deep breath and ran outside as fast as I could. I kept running and running until I got to where the shipping containers were being moved on t-the graveyard shift. A c-crane worker spotted me and c-called 911. His name was Michael…l-like the Revelations warrior angel. He gave me his flannel shirt to c-cover up and l-let me cry on him. He…he got me help. I would've bled to death if he hadn't g-gotten me help because I was s-so busted up inside. That…that _**_monster_**_ busted me up inside! He did it a-and he laughed about it! I can still hear him laughing at me!"_

Olivia slid the box of Kleenex closer to the sobbing woman and used every compartmentalization skill she had not to break out bawling herself. Seeing the forensic evidence, hearing it be broken down over these last 5 days of the prosecution presenting their Case was horrible. Every introduced piece, every connection made was like a blow to the stomach but these 2 days of testimony from Miranda…it felt like her heart was being sent repeatedly through a paper shredder.

How could anyone be so cruel? How could anyone be so calculating and sadistic as to do such obscene acts of torture to someone else? Looking at Rimbeau, she saw that the man's head was bowed and that tears were splashing on the wood of the table. David Rosen had his glasses off and his eyes screamed in pain. Olivia remembered that screaming pain. She had it in her days as a public defender, as someone who had to defend someone who was so blatantly, disgustingly guilty. It was a brand to the soul and Olivia knew that he would be drinking himself to sleep that night.

As would she.

"Nothing further, Your Honor.", she managed to get out, her voice cracking on the last syllable.

Judge Marvin Drake nodded curtly and asked, "Does the defense wish to cross-examine the witness?"

"No. No, Your Honor. The defense rests."

"Very well. Ms. St. James, you may step down, now."

Miranda nearly fell to her knees as she walked back towards her seat and she was immediately engulfed by members of not only her family but the family members of each of the other victims, as well as Michael Politino, the worker who had gotten her to safety.

"Court will resume tomorrow morning at 9:30 sharp."

The gavel was banged and after gathering her things, Olivia left the courtroom swiftly. Her black heels echoed with each step on the marble floors and she ducked into a nearby stairwell, As soon as she got to the garbage can, the bagel and orange juice she had for breakfast came back up. Shuddering, she pulled out her bottle of water and rinsed, spitting into the large can.

She was doing the right thing.

She was doing the right job.

It was just…today, it was a harsh job.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: Happy Wednesday, everyone! Here's this week's **_**Bugs**_** installment, which has a whole lot of Olitz tenderness and a major breakthrough for our girl. Fortunately, in ****_my_**** SCANDAL-verse, major breakthroughs do not make Liv run away like a damned coward. An update for _The Thunderbolt_ will up soon, hopefully before the end of the weekend, as well as an update for _Shattering_. Have a good day!**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

His fingertips were gentle against her scalp, massaging as he got the last of the lather out of her hair.

Olivia had come home to a meal of slow cooked beef stew, crusty bread, and a bottle of Bordeaux. They had eaten in warm silence and she had appreciated it. Fitz knew when to push her and when to hold back, to let her move at her own pace. The Trial was everywhere, being covered 24/7 on CourtTV and the top story on every news channel, every talk show, every newspaper…

Instead of using a glass, she had drank her wine straight from the bottle as she let out the anguish she had suppressed in the courtroom. God, how many times had she cried in front of Fitz already? How many times had she curled up against him, seeking comfort and shelter from the world? Olivia had made a point of not showing her underbelly, her vulnerability to anyone. One of the most frequent complaints she had gotten from her exes was that she shut people out, that she shut _**them**_ out, and played her cards too close to the vest.

**Take Care of Yourself.**

**Don't Rely on ****_Anyone_****, especially a man.**

**Everyone Lies.**

**Everyone Leaves.**

**Show no Fear.**

**Show no Weakness.**

Those had been her mantras. Those words had been her Code, her way of living but Fitz…Fitz had shaken things up. Olivia was completely at ease being open with him, being raw and messy in front of him. And he didn't treat her like a conquest or a challenge. He wasn't trying to rescue a damsel in distress or even break down her walls. He just wanted to be a part of her life, accepting her as she was…

"_Stand up, Livvie._"

Grasping the edges of the brass claw foot tub, she obeyed him, feeling the fragrant waters stream down her body. After dinner, he had picked her up and after depositing her gently in their bed, drawn her a bath. She had entered the master attached bathroom to the illumination of tea lights and Olivia had allowed him to undress her, to wash her hair, and massage the tension and sadness out of her muscles…

Carefully, she got out of the tub and looked up at him as he dried her off, shivering at the amount of tenderness on his features as they returned to their bedroom. Fitz had no qualms about showing his feelings for her. He wore his heart on his sleeve and she could read him like a comic book. He…he was love with her. That was the simplest way of explaining it, explaining every action, every word, every look he gave her. Fitz _**loved**_ her. Why? She didn't know but she would be damned if she pushed him away because of it. Why? Because…because…

Her back was flat on the mattress and after turning off the bedside lamp, Fitz wrapped his arms around her from the side, resting his head just below her ribcage.

Her fingertips went into his scalp idly, her eyes drifting shut in a sea of exhaustion, contentment, and love.

…because she loved him too.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Good morning, everyone! Another week of awesome hiatus, another Wednesday, and another **_**Bugs**_** installment. Can you guys believe it's June, already? It seems like only yesterday that I was wiping sleet from my glasses and now, it's hitting the low 80s easily for a high. I'm so glad for it…**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

**1994…**

_"Are you sure I can't go with you to London, Momma?"_

_"I'm sure, baby but don't worry, I'll bring you back something special just in time for your birthday. Do you have what you need for school?"_

_"Yes, Momma. And I already turned in my sports physical results. I'm gonna try out for the swim team. I still like to sprint and do the hurdles but I think that swimming with a group will be fun. Plus, there's a trip to Washington, D.C. at the end of the season. I know I've already been there a bunch of times but it never gets old. Do I _**_really _**_have to stay with Dad while you're gone? He's just gonna end up sending me to grand-mere's after a couple of days anyway…"_

_"That may be true but it's his week to visit with you and legally, I'm required to send you over there. One week isn't so bad when you realize that you get to live with me for the rest of the year."_

_"…I guess so. I just…he doesn't talk to me like you do. He's either ordering me around like I'm a soldier or he's talking to me and lecturing me like I'm stupid. I'm _**_not _**_stupid. I may be 12 but _**_I'm not stupid._**_"_

_"Livvie, your father…there's good in him. There really is but unfortunately, he's not very good at expressing his feelings, not even the good ones. He sees them all as a point of weakness and…still, at the end of the day, he's not a bad person."_

_"How can you say that after everything he put you through with Veronica?"_

_"Because I still love him, Olivia. I'll always love him."_

_"Why? He hurt you. He lied to you. He left you and didn't care."_

_"Yes, he did but sometimes, the ones who you love the most hurt you the most. It's just how love works sometimes."_

_"That doesn't make any sense. Momma, love isn't supposed to hurt and break people down. It's supposed to be warm. It's supposed to be upbuilding. It's supposed to be strengthening. It's supposed to be normal. It's supposed to be easy and simple."_

_"Like many things, baby…love has layers. Yes, there's room for it to be normal, upbuilding, warm, easy, and simple but love…love can also be painful, difficult, devastating, life-changing…_**extraordinary**_…"_

_"Momma, I don't think I'll ever want that kind of love or any love at all, really. It sounds too scary and like it's all a lot more trouble than it's worth."_

_"That will change. I hope to God that it'll change for you, sweetheart. You'll grow up and when you find that person, when they find you…**you'll want that love, Olivia. You'll fight for it. You'll face every fear you've got, go through every obstacle that comes up in your path for that love…"**_

* * *

"…_you stupid son of a bitch._"

"**_Excuse me?_**"

"I didn't stutter, _**Eli**_. You're a smug, hypocritical, close minded, stupid son of a bitch. You always have been and you always will be. Here I was hoping that you'd have actually changed but no. **_No_**… you're unbelievable. You're just going to sit here with your overpriced wine and your cheap tailored suit and pass judgment upon him? You have _**no**_ _**right**_**_!_**"

"Livvie, it's nothing that I haven't heard before from my own father and like with Big Jerry, I'm just going to ignore his opinions and assumptions about my character because at the end of the day, the only Pope's opinion that's relevant to me is yours. He's not worth getting upset over. It's okay…"

"Fitzgerald, it is _**not**_ okay and I am _**not**_ upset. I'm fucking _**pissed!**_And while _**he**_ is not worth getting fucking pissed over, _**you**_ are! You are worth it and I am not going to allow anyone to disrespect you or our relationship without consequences!"

"Olivia, I'm simply trying to protect you from being…"

"_**I don't need protecting!**__"_

"You're making a scene, Olivia…"

"And **_heaven forbid_** that happens, Eli! Heaven forbid that your reputation becomes tarnished by your impetuous, naive, gold digging, colorstruck slut of a daughter!"

"I never said that you were a gold digging slut, Olivia!"

"No, you just said that I was nothing more than a conquest and a trophy to some rich white man and that you were shocked that I would be so _**stupid**_ as to fall into his honey trap! What's the matter, Eli? Did you _**expect better from me?**_ Am I so…what did you used to call me all the time…**_mediocre_** that you feel like you have to Fix a mess that I was just oh so eager to get into..._**or am I just, as fucking **_**_always_**_,__** nowhere near 'twice as good' as you feel that I need to be to worthy of being called your daughter?!**__"_

Olivia felt no satisfaction at the way the man's calm visage crumbled and all she could hear was her heartbeat pounding in her ears as Eli pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Rage and hurt burned and coiled inside her. Her entire body was trembling and she knew that her face was twisted into the ugly, wide eyed, parted quivering lipped grimace that came before her bursting into wild tears. She had wept more in the series of weeks, both from pleasure and pain, than she had in years. In the past, she had equated tears with weakness, even gaining and embracing a reputation for being stoic at all times ("**_Olivia Pope doesn't believe in crying_**…") but she had changed.

Many factors had prompted the change. The Rimbeau Case had become a vivid reminder of just how short life was, how easily it could all be stolen away. If she died, who would really miss her? What would she really have to show for her time alive? Yes, she was successful and well off but what did that really matter? She had friends, close friends that she cherished but did they really know that?

She woke up alone and went to bed alone. Don't get her wrong, Olivia valued her independence greatly but she was lonely at times, wistful for companionship with someone worthy, someone worthwhile…

Fitz. The moment she had kissed Fitzgerald Grant III so sweetly that night in the smoking lounge had been a watershed moment for her. Letting him into her mind, her life, her bed, _her heart…_her mother had been right that faithful day, that faithful mother/daughter chat between them, the very last one…

Now, Olivia saw tears as a sign of strength. She wouldn't turn into a sniveling little girl but she would no longer treat her negative emotions as a character flaw nor would she disregard them or allow others to do so.

Even if it meant cutting out the remaining member of her immediate biological family.

_**Especially**_ if it meant cutting out the remaining member of her immediate biological family.

"Olivia, I… I **_do_** love you. I don't think you're inferior or anything like that. I just want the best for you." Eli proclaimed heavily as she put on her coat, having picked up on her resolve.

"You have a skewed way of showing it and I am no longer willing or able to go along with it. You want what's best for me? Okay, then. No more Sunday Dinners. No more calling me. No more using your contacts to 'check up' on me. Just…leave me alone. I can't do this anymore, Eli. I can't be near you and have regular contact with you while keeping my sanity and self worth intact. You're toxic and I can't do this anymore with you. I _**won't**_ do this anymore with you."

"Livvie, if this is about you and the Grant boy…"

"This has nothing to do with the Grant _**man**_ I've chosen to be with. This has everything to do with you and I and your issues that you've been taking out on me since long before Momma died. The fact that you can't see and understand that even now that is just…sad. Endlessly _**sad**_. Fitz, please take me home. I would like to go home, now. We have no further business here."

Mutely, Fitz stood up from the table, put his own coat on, and with a polite nod to Eli, ushered her gently out of the restaurant.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: Good morning, everyone. Honestly, y'all? I've gotten so used to excuses, double talk, lies, and fuckery from the SCANDAL camp that I don't even bother getting riled up anymore when someone shows their ass or cops out. What's the point? It doesn't really change a thing and it just gives me stomach cramps and I get quite enough of them from real life issues, thank you very much. You wanna know what I'm here for? I'm here for fanfics and for the Gladiators in the Arena and the few remaining cast members with sense. Everything and everyone else is irrelevant. Here's this week's **_**Bugs**_** installment and more WIP updates and draftbook drabbles are on the way. I'm also going to start the SCANDAL 101 handbook up again soon with revisions to accommodate the Season 3 crack!fic nonsense disguised as canon and with all new entries. Keep your inboxes and dashes open!**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry that Eli said all of those ignorant things to you. I'm sorry that I allowed him to get under my skin. I'm sorry for making such an ugly scene and ruining our- _**mmph!**_"

What drew Fitz to Olivia in the first place was her mind. He loved her mind. Her mind was a beautiful mind, full of warmth, depth, strength, and wisdom. Hearing her in the courtroom, hearing her in strategy sessions, listening to her brilliance and creativity be used as a force for the Greater Good...it had been like a drug. There was nothing sexier to him than a woman who wasn't afraid to think, wasn't afraid to take control, wasn't afraid to get shit done...

Right now, though, he wanted his Livvie and her beautiful mind to stop finding and making trouble where there was none to be found. He wasn't upset at all. Fitz had known that things were not going to go well from the moment they set foot in the restaurant. Eli Pope was determined to hate him and frankly, Fitz couldn't stand the man, either. He reminded him too much of Big Jerry, only his claims of power and intelligence seemed to have weight, weight that he was all too willing to throw around against his daughter.

Fitz couldn't spend more than 5 minutes in the man's orbit without wanting to punch him in the mouth. The way he so casually cut at Olivia, the way he dismissed her responses and thoughts like they were nothing more than the babbling of a child, the way that Olivia slowly but surely wilted as the dinner stretched on. Fitz wanted to hug her. He had wanted to pick her up and take her away from the table, take her home so that she'd be away from the pain and sorrow.

Pain and sorrow that he was all too familiar with…

Once Olivia had been cowed, reduced to picking listlessly at her lasagna, the man had started in on him and hadn't held back a thing.

According to Eli Pope (and the man's word was Gospel), Fitz was nothing more than a spoiled, silver spooned, Senator's brat who was using his daughter as a novelty, as an item to be checked off from a bucket list. It was to be expected. After all, he was a Grant man, a Grant **_boy _**and Grants were whore and liars. They were good for nothing men, protected and coddled by a bubble of privilege and political capital. Fitz had never struggled for anything really. Everything had been handed to him and it was just so sad that Olivia had fallen for his act. There was no real respect, there was no friendship, there was no tenderness in Fitz's heart for his daughter. Everything was a calculated act to get into her panties, panties that she was so eager to pull down for him. Fitz was an indolent manchild. He was too idealistic, too sensitive, and too ignorant to be truly worthy of his daughter's hand or of the approval of anyone who truly mattered in the world. He was just a little kid playing dress-up, a pretty boy who wouldn't be of much value or use to anyone…

It was all a variation of a long running theme in his life. Big Jerry, some of his professors, Millicent and her family (although, they had been all too eager to overlook his 'shortcomings' as long as they got a big slice of the Political Capital Cream Pie the Grants had been baking for decades…), his peers…everyone had venom to spew against Fitz. It had been like that for as long as he could remember so Eli Pope was nothing. He was a small, hateful little man and Fitz had actually been amused by the low toned rant. Was **_that_** the best he could do? **_Really?_** The man was a living legend in the New England region, his work as a Prosecutor lauded but he couldn't come up with any original material to cut down his daughter's boy-toy? What a laugh!

Besides, even if he had been original, Fitz had a thick skin and had been hardened against the negative opinions of others. Sometimes the words would stumble him. In his youth, the words had caused tears to fall into the private folds of his pillows but now…it was fuel. It had become fuel. He would show all of those who demeaned him, all of those who underestimated him, all of those who tried to tear him down who he really was. He would show them that he was worthy and then tell them all to kiss his ass.

What made him angry wasn't the venom against his character but the thought of Olivia being around the man as a child, as a teenager, having every little thought, every dream ripped to shreds and for what? What would the man gain from breaking down his little girl's spirit and what kind of man, what kind of father did that sort of thing, anyway? What made him angry was the way that Olivia had to shut down and withdraw into a survival mode just to get through a fucking meal with the man.

Olivia's passionate defense of herself, of him, of them against Eli had been amazing. She had stood up to one of the biggest bullies in her life and shut him all the way down in the way he deserved. It had been **_glorious_**…

And yet, she was absolutely right to be upset at her father and at the fact that she had cut him off, most likely for good. Speaking from experience, Fitz knew that cutting out a parent, even if the parent was unrepentantly, smugly toxic was torturous. It wasn't just about saying 'enough' and severing contact. It was about severing loyalty, loyalty to blood as well. Throw in the fact that Eli Pope was the only remaining biological family she had left and Olivia was reeling. Her mind and heart were in pitched combat, an out of control high speed train, making her words desperate, high, crisp, and at the core, utterly irrational.

To blame her for her father's pettiness and ignorance would be like blaming her and only her for the pollution in the East River and the Hole in the ozone layer.

It made no sense at all!

**_She_** made no sense at all!

And as that fateful conversation after their first time together proved, the best way to slow her down and get her started back on a path to rationality when she was on a speeding train tangent was to kiss her, which led to their current position.

Fitz was kissing her firmly yet tenderly, his tongue demanding yet coaxing. Olivia responded fervently, her body instinctively reacting and feeding off of his. Her back made contact with the wall and their lips parted with a loud, wet smack.

"_Fitz…_"

"_Quiet._"

"_But…_"

"Shut up and listen to me, Livvie."

"_Don't you tell me to…_**_mmmm_**_…"_

He loved it when her hair was up. It gave her free access to her neck, shoulder, and ear, as well as all of the hypersensitive places in the region. Once she was sufficiently distracted, he pulled away and cupped her face in his hands so she'd have to look at him and listen to him. Once her attention was had, he moved his hands to her shoulders and gently pinned them against the wall, making sure that she held still but not hurting her.

"**He is not you.** I told you that the only Pope's opinion that I put stock in is yours so anything that he's got to say is irrelevant. I know for a fact that you don't think of me like he does. If you did, then we would've never become friends, much less lovers with me living here full time. Olivia…honey, not every bad thing that happens is your fault. You**_ do _**realize that, don't you?"

"Of **_course_** I do but I put you in that situation. You shouldn't have been there. I shouldn't have made you come with me."

"When did you hold a gun to my head and tell me to come to that Sunday Dinner from Hell with you? You didn't make me do anything. I'm a grown man and I'll do what I want. I wanted to be there with you so I came and I'm glad that I did. Has he always spoken to you like that, treated you like that?"

"Pretty much. After Momma died, it got worse. I think he saw her as defective and since my personality is a lot like hers, he wanted to Fix me before it was too late. Even after he sent me away, he was always judging me and finding me lacking, criticizing me and making me feel like nothing I did was ever good enough, no matter how hard I worked. I…I don't know why I kept trying to get his approval all of those years, kept trying to make him proud. It's like…it's like putting your hand on a hot stove and expecting not to get burned."

"He's your dad. Even though you know better, even though you know that he's never going to change, you can't help but hope that one day he does."

"Are we talking about the relationship with your dad or my ended relationship with my dad?"

"Both."

"**_Jesus_**…we're a goddamned mess, Fitzgerald."

"Yeah, but at least we're messy together, Livvie."


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: Good Wednesday morning, everyone. Another week, another _Bugs_ installment! I'm very glad you guys enjoyed the Sunday Dinner from Hell and are still enjoying this story in general. It's a real boost to the Muses. I've got D.D. #6 on my laptop and D.D #7 in my notebook and if things keep going well, both should be up on here and on FFN before the end of next week.**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

**2 Weeks Later…**

Snow fell steadily outside their bedroom window and Olivia rested on her back, watching as he slept peacefully. Fitz's left arm and one of his strong legs were holding her down but she had no inclination to move them. His warmth was welcome and the closeness needed.

The Rimbeau case was finally over and the monster would be put away until his execution date. The gall of the man to ask for mercy, to drop tears and to ask forgiveness from all the people he hurt. It was all nothing but a last act, a last ditch effort at looking human before the eyes of the Public. Rimbeau had painted himself as a victim of circumstance, an unfortunate casualty of mental illness gone untreated, unchecked. He claimed that he was unable to stop himself from doing what he did to those women, to the ones who loved and needed and missed them. Miranda may not have been physically killed but she…now, she was one who needed help and support. She had been traumatized, brutalized…

Rimbeau was where he belonged but it didn't really feel like a victory. So much pain, so much death, so many lives lost and changed forever. There was only so much a guilty verdict could do. They could only kill him once. They couldn't torture him like he had done to his victims. It was just…

As if sensing her unease, Fitz curled closer to her and she maneuvered so they she was spooned up against him. They ended up in a cozy prone position, his cheek pillowed on her back. Olivia sighed and relaxed into the bedding, letting the soft snores of her lover lull her into a state of slumber.

Contrary to what she had seen during the Case, Olivia knew deep down that there was still good in the world. There were still good people in the world that evil could not destroy. There was still joy and peace to be found in various places, various ways, various people…

There was still hope.

Hope was a beautiful thing.


End file.
